


And I seem to find the happiness I seek

by OrSaiKellieLonore



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Agatha Wellbelove, Background Penelope Bunce/Shepard - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Healing, Healthy communication techniques, Implied past eating disorder, Learning To Communicate, M/M, Mentioned oc - Freeform, Old Men In Love, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Canon, SnowBaz, Therapy, aro/ace!Agatha, domestic & soft, food insecurity mention, healing from eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrSaiKellieLonore/pseuds/OrSaiKellieLonore
Summary: Agatha goes to visit Simon and Baz for a dinner party to celebrate her retirement.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58
Collections: Carry_On_Summer_Exchange_2020





	And I seem to find the happiness I seek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clevelandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clevelandy/gifts).



> My fic for the Carry On Exchange, for @clevelandy (motherscarf), who requested something domestic & soft and old men in love (among other things I wasn't able to fit in.) I hope you enjoy it!
> 
>   
> Thank you to @lincyclopedia for being my beta on such last-minute notice! I love you lots!  
> The title is a lyric from the jazz standard "Cheek to Cheek", my favorite recording being the one by [Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtiF01XhkPw)  
> 
> 
> CW: Simon briefly describes his past food insecurity stemming from the lack of steady meals provided in care homes, it's implied that he had an eating disorder but has been able to heal over the years.

**Agatha**

I’ve been looking forward to celebrating my retirement with Simon and Baz. I’m sure it will be pleasant, especially since I haven’t seen either of them in a few months. Since they were taking holiday in Spain and I’ve been busy preparing for my aforementioned retirement, we haven’t been able to get together in some time. Baz and Simon are cooking tonight. Supposedly all I need do is show, and according to Simon’s conspicuous hints there will be cake. That said, I’m walking up the stairs to their flat in Clapham Town, carrying a tray of Cook Pritchard’s scones with which I’ll be greeting Simon. His face never fails to light up with childlike delight when he notices the telltale tin that carries them, even though Baz can make them too. A number of years ago, we worked out the special touch that makes those sour cherry scones taste just like they did when we were at Watford.

I’m unsurprisingly winded as I reach the third floor, but as I missed my daily walk with my flatmate I wasn’t going to take the lift. We usually head down the river for a few kilometers, chatting about work or the ubiquitous construction in Chelsea. But today I made the scones. I’m usually hopeless at baking, but my flatmate isn’t. Olivia did the most of the work (which included cleaning up some of the mess I made) and I cast **_Just add the finishing touch_** at the end, which turned out to be Pritchard’s secret ingredient. Olivia isn’t _exactly_ a mage, but we are each other’s closest confidants. I talk to her about my past in the world of mages and she tells me about her time as an executive assistant to the CEO of a major corporation. As we’ve grown older, we’ve both had trouble keeping the related traumas to ourselves, and the solution, as it turned out, was to get therapy (of course) and befriend someone who's had similar experiences. I slowly became more comfortable as a mage myself, but that still doesn’t mean I have ever or will ever desire to live with one. And as a bonus, she and I both consider living together the “settling down” ideal our families always wanted for us. As it was never going to happen the exact way Mum wanted it, I suppose this is the closest I’ll get, and I love it. I love Olivia. She’s my best friend, and with all the aro/ace community functions we spent time together at over the years, I’m always surprised we didn’t start living together until a few years ago.

At the end of the corridor, even before I can shift the large tin in my arms to try knocking, the door opens up to Baz smiling wryly at me before he speaks to the flat behind him. “You were right, dear.” He steps aside to give me the view of Simon’s grey curls bouncing as he appears in the entryway.

“Agatha! You brought the scones; you shouldn’t have!” He beams even more widely before embracing me, tin and all.

I can’t help but laugh lightly, and as Simon steps away to alternate grinning at the tin and at me, I see Baz cover a chuckle with his hand. Simon doesn’t seem to notice or ignores him and takes the tin from me.

“C’mon in, you know the drill,” he says as he turns away from me to put the scones down on the table. (I notice him lifting the lid to smell them before I head to their sitting room.)

“You weren’t supposed to bring anything to your own party,” Baz says, and motions to the sofa.

“Not that we aren’t grateful!” Simon calls from the other room, his mouth sounding quite full.

Baz looks in his direction, smiling. (Although it’s unnecessary to tell Simon to get someone who looks at him the way he looks at sour cherry scones, Penelope and I do it anyway. Every time we do, Baz looks like he would be blushing, and sometimes even goes a little pink if it’s earlier in the day. It’s very sweet.)

**Baz**

Crowley, I hope Simon doesn’t bring in one of the scones yet. Wellbelove and Bunce have a tendency to comment on the way Simon gazes at the baked goods, although maybe Agatha won’t do it without her counterpart present.

Luckily, when Simon comes into the sitting room to join me on the sofa the only evidence of him sneaking a bite is the smell of butter and cherries on his breath, and not a half-eaten chunk of one in his hand. I love that man to pieces but he still can’t stand waiting to get a bite of the treat.

He leans into me slightly and asks Agatha how her flatmate is doing. We’ve had her over a few times, as well as having been to Agatha’s since they’ve moved in together, and she’s become a bit of a regular in our friend group, but I forget why she couldn’t join us tonight. While waiting for an opportunity to ask, Simon absent-mindedly puts his hand on my knee, and _Crowley_ , his unprompted touch can still inspire gooseflesh on me. Wellbelove notices and shares a knowing look with me. I feel silly thinking that it would have made me blush if I hadn’t kept to my schedule of feeding in the mornings.

“Remind us where Olivia is tonight?” Simon asks.

“She’s preparing to take a flight to America tomorrow. She’s flying out ridiculously early, so she’s trying to get some sleep.”

Oh, that’s right. To see her sister and nephews. It’s almost amusing that I forgot that, because--

“Don’t they also live in Nebraska?”

_It’s quite the small world_ , I think, as Agatha confirms. “Are they anywhere near where Bunce is visiting her in-laws?”

“No, it’s across the state. I already checked with them; I thought it could be sweet if they were in the same area so they could have all met up together. But Shepard’s family is mainly on the opposite end in a small town.”

I don’t envy Bunce the obligation to return to America so frequently. Yes, Simon and I would probably not be married if she hadn’t dragged us there on what turned out to be a wild goose chase, but that doesn’t mean that I ever want to return.

I find my hand subconsciously moving to Simon’s on my knee as I think about it. _If he had broken up with me back then, if he hadn’t let me help him seek out a new therapist when we returned, if we hadn’t gotten lucky with Dr. Wellbelove knowing a decent couple’s therapist for us to see, if, if, if…_

Simon grasps my hand in his, squeezing it, as if he’s read my mind. I suppose my face is an open book when conversations turn to visiting America. But if Agatha can tell, she maintains polite conversation with Simon anyway. I’ve become so caught up in my thoughts as the years have gone by. (Not that I’ve sacrificed my eloquence. I’m a Pitch: I will stay well-spoken until my death even if I must force myself.)

When I glance at Simon sat next to me I also notice his head tilted towards me. It’s one of those small things that makes me believe he’s just as in love with me as always. It took years of hard work, but we can both accept that about each other now. Crowley, we were a disaster of a couple before therapy. Who would have known how much we loved each other if we hadn’t worked out ways to communicate it?

I brush my thumb over Simon’s before standing to check on the oven. He had wanted to try something new, but couldn’t decide on a dish, so we ended up once again preparing quiche. When I go to call into the sitting room for dinner, Simon is already leading Agatha over to the table. Sometimes I wonder if he can read my mind.

**Simon**

I must have guessed correctly that the quiche was ready to go. When I was leading Agatha into the dining room, Baz popped his head out of the kitchen and got a twinkle in his eye, and headed back in before returning with the fancy dish. We’ve talked before about how in-sync we are. He always looks at me that way, where he’s smiling in his eyes but not his mouth, when I’ve guessed something before he’s told me. I think we’re just on the same page a lot of the time, but he likes to call it my “intuition.” I guess that makes sense, too.

Now that we’re sat at the table with all the food (and the fancy flatware and other table settings we got as wedding gifts) it’s Baz’s turn to maintain the majority of the conversation. They both know me too well. I’ve gotten better at maintaining healthier eating habits (I don’t shove food down my throat anymore), but I still dedicate mealtimes to focusing on doing just that one thing -- eating. That’s one of the many things my therapist helped me with. Apparently since I grew up with food insecurity in the care homes, it made sense that I would eat so much so frequently at school. According to her, my body would tell me to eat as much as I could when I could, since it didn’t know when it would receive its next meal.

As I finish eating, I tune back in to what Agatha and Baz are talking about.

“Do they have another dentist with your same specialties coming in after you leave?”

“Yes, he’s a man who moved to London recently, and he’s slowly taking over my clients during the next month as I finish up.”

“That must make for a smooth transition with the clients.”

“It really is, their feedback has been overwhelmingly positive.” Agatha puts her napkin back on the table, showing she’s finished as well, which is my prompt to go fetch the lemon sponge.

At the end of the night, when we’ve all had our fill of the cake (and Agatha has accepted, after Baz’s insistence, that she bring a piece back for Olivia), we give our hugs goodbye with promises of seeing each other again as soon as Penny and Shepard return.

As soon as the door closes, I drag Baz to plop down on the sofa with me. He takes my hand and smiles, looking down at our hand intertwined. I love how beautiful he looks, with his long salt-and-pepper hair and that smile on his face. I love how he looks when he’s holding my hand. I tell him so.

He looks up at me, smiling even wider and running his free hand through my shorter curls before gently moving my face closer to his. He kisses my cheek. Even now, after all this time, it remains our code for requesting further physical affection. It didn’t start as that (we had to work up to it) but it was the final step in developing a system of communication about this sort of thing. I close my eyes and lean into his lips on my cheek. Smoothly, I turn my face and let my lips meet his and we stay there for a few seconds, enjoying each other’s expression of love.

“I enjoyed seeing Agatha. I’m glad she’s doing so well,” Baz murmurs as he gently pulls away a few centimetres.

“Me too.”

We let the comfortable silence hang in the air for a few seconds, holding hands and lightly stroking each other: his fingers tracing up and down the back of my neck, mine on his jawline.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He’s so close that I can only see the crinkling of his eyes as he smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I made Agatha a dentist because of Hermione's parents.
> 
> Find me on tumblr if you like! themeaningoflifeischeese.tumblr.com


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